


unsuspecting victim (of darkness in the valley)

by eggosandxmen



Series: addicted to the knife [1]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Child Abuse, Demons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, What Time Period Is This? Who Freaking Knows?, You Know Stranger Things? It’s That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 19:21:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19482349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggosandxmen/pseuds/eggosandxmen
Summary: The subject somehow catches them looking through the glass, and her eyes light up- a sickly green. The occult runes peeking through her ripped hospital gown, so crudely carved into her skin, are the only things not glowing, a calming portion of darkness against the harsh light.She grins at them. Her mouth is red, blood and guts lining her teeth from the last time they had made her interrogate a prisoner.(Or: Lydia is a weapon for the United States government, Barbara accidently adopts a demon, and nothing is quite as it seems.)PART TWO NOW AVAILABLE.





	1. the psychologist comes knocking

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all, welcome to The AU That One Person Cares About.
> 
> This is a mash-up of Beetlejuice (musical version!), the entirety of Weapon X from X-men, and Stranger Things. Lydia is a lab experiment of Charles (who is, sadly, the bad guy) and Delia (who will get redeemed). She's a demonic vessel who shares a rapport with Beetlejuice, and she gets adopted by Barbara and Adam Maitland, idiots in love.
> 
> Buckle up.

“The subject’s glowing again,” Delia remarks, peering through the glass. 

“So it is.” Charles shuffles through a stack of papers, sighing as he pulled one out from near the bottom. “We’re going to need to sedate it again soon.”

They give each other tired glances before Charles looks back through the glass, down to their most prized subject. Delia winces a little at the thought. The damn thing in the cell seemed to Delia to be more trouble than she’s worth. For a prize, the girl sure has cost them a lot- moving out of New York and far out, up to Canada; the loss of friends and family; and worst of all the death of Charles’ first wife (he had explained it gravely- the horror of teeth and bone that had torn poor Emily to pieces, with a baby firmly asleep in its arms. Delia didn’t much like to think about the demon their subject shared such a bond with, though she supposed she owed it her marriage). 

Delia looks down at the subject.

She’s sitting on the bench in her cell, just staring and staring and staring. The dirty white of her hospital gown is a stark contrast from her skin, which is lit up like a small supernova, her hair whipping around by an invisible wind.

The subject somehow catches them looking through the glass, and her eyes light up- a sickly green. The occult runes peeking through her ripped hospital gown, so crudely carved into her skin, are the only things not glowing, a calming portion of darkness against the harsh light.

She grins at them. Her mouth is red, blood and guts lining her teeth from the last time they had made her interrogate a prisoner. 

Delia looks away in disgust and Charles pretends to be interested in his papers, scribbles on the subject’s health and wellness drawn up for their newest recruit (one Barbara Maitland, set to start tomorrow, a genius of psychology who Charles hoped would one day be able to get the subject functional enough to go on missions outside of the lab). The subject keeps grinning, baring her teeth as if trying to scare them. They pretend not to notice.

Delia fights down the horror she still feels about the demon- god, she looks like a child. But Charles always reminds her how wrong she is when she says that.

Delia doesn’t say a word.

\- 

Barbara smooths down her hair, nervously twisting her wedding ring back and forth as she sits outside the door. After what seems like an eternity, the door opens, revealing a sweaty man, perfectly-fitted suit and greasy hair making for a jarring picture. He grins at her with an unnerving smile, and immediately sets Barbara ill at ease. 

“Hi, Dr. Maitland, I’m Charles Deetz, the director of this institute. Please come in.”

She follows him inside, gazing around at the white walls, marred by dark red stains along the paint. Barbara peeks into rooms as they walk along- one filled with mice and rabbits, chittering in their cages, one a normal board room, the walls covered with scribbled runes.

What _is_ this place?

Other doctors pass them as they walk, all quiet people hustling along, and she almost loses Charles as they go, so lost in her own questions.

Charles turns a corner and leads her through a dimly-lit hallway, the lights flickering like an old horror film. Three doors from the end of it, they make it to a small office marked Maitland and step inside. Barbara sets her suitcase down and Charles gives another artificial grin, Barbara looking around at the bare walls and small desk. 

“The weapon’s three hallways down, two rooms to the left. You’ll want to visit before you leave today, get started right away.”

The weapon. There it was again. Barbara had taken this job with the promise of a salary high enough to keep Adam and herself without financial stress and a chance to help others- but never had she learned a single detail about this lab or what they did.

What sort of weaponry company needs a child psychologist?

Barbara nods and Charles makes his exit, awkwardly shuffling around her desk to squeeze back out the door. 

Barbara makes the quick decision to unpack her bag before she headed down to where the so-called weapon was kept. She sets her small (barely carry-on sized) suitcase on the desktop before unzipping it in one fluid motion and begins to unpack the things that were neatly placed inside- a small framed photo of herself and Adam on their wedding day, a few of her texts and pamphlets that she had found helpful, her graduation certificate, identifying that she had graduated with a masters degree in psychology from the University of Massachusetts, top of her class. Once her office is set up and beginning to feel like it’s actually hers, she heads down. 

Once the office is set up, she heads down. 

The weapon (which Barbara continues to be confused on- again, why would they need a child psychologist for a _weapon?_ ) seems to be stored in the hallway next to Barbara’s office- damp and cold, too shoved away to make it anything too important. At the end of the hall, Barbara meets a set of heavy metal bars, presumably to keep the weapon trapped inside rather than Barbara out.

Barbara peeks through the bars and her heart drops into her stomach, slowing to a crawl as she reaches for the bars- freezing to the touch, almost burning in how cold they are. The cell itself is disgusting, covered in stains and dirt and lit up with a cold brightness; but most horrifying of all is the figure in the center of the cell, fast asleep- a child. A little girl.

Rips in her hospital gown show angry red scars shaped like a sigil across her chest; her hair is matted and her face is bloody, hands tucked behind her head. Barbara swallows down her fears and her dozens of questions- namely _what the fuck, Charles Deetz_ \- and walks inside.

At the sound of the door opening, the girl startles awake, shooting off to the corner and crouching there. She sways back and forth, reminding Barbara slightly of Adam as she moves, before curling up so tightly that Barbara can only see her knees and her arms around her face. 

“Hi, honey,” she says, quiet-soft, like she’s trying to soothe a wounded animal, “I’m Dr. Maitland, but if you’d like, you can call me Barbara. I’m the new child psychologist, here to work with you. What’s your name?” 

No response. More staring. The girl looks like a mix between terrified and angry, and Barbara attempts to keep her voice steady. 

“Can you look at me, if you’re comfortable with that, please? Are you alright?”

The girl moves her arms to look at her, and Barbara sees her pupils are an unnatural red, yellow replacing the whites. Barbara’s immediate thought is of former cases, where children came in high or stoned or whatever the word was these days, but after looking for a few more seconds Barbara realizes that the girl’s eyes aren’t a result of any sort of drugs- they must be natural.

She’s oddly alright with that. 

“That’s better. So, I’m going to move backward, and you can stay as you are if that makes you feel safe, okay?” 

Small nod. The girl relaxes as Barbara pulls away, turning carefully to look at her fully. Barbara smiles as she scoots backward, pulling her knees to her chest and putting her arms around them. 

“It’s very nice to meet you. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

A blink, a nod, a clenching of fists, no words.

 _She’s probably nonverbal,_ Barbara thinks, and moves to the next tactic. “Okay, I’m gonna ask some yes or no questions, alright? Can you nod or shake your head for me?”

Nod.

“Okay, so I’m going to touch you for a second, is that alright? It won’t hurt, I need to check to make sure you aren’t sick.”

She nods and Barbara moves forward, puts her hand on the girl’s forehead; she flinches and Barbara pulls her hand away slowly, noting how cold the poor kid feels and how utterly destroyed her gown is, rips and tears along so much of it it’s more a rag than clothing.

“Okay. You feel really cold, but you don’t seem to be running a fever or anything- that’s important.”

Because she’s in a damp cell filled with bloodstains, Barbara thinks to herself. She doesn’t say that, just takes a deep breath.

“Would you be okay with me looking at the marks on your chest and your back?”

Nod.

The girl lifts up her hospital gown, and Barbara’s worst fears are confirmed.

The girl’s chest- still flat, Barbara notices, likely a result of hormone blockers- holds a complex set of scars in the shape of a Devil’s Trap, red and pink, and her stomach carries the marks of heavy burning, rib cage showing against them. Barbara sighs, muttering to herself as she takes note of the rest of the girl’s back- more symbols, more scars. “This just isn’t right. What did Adam say, this job is a bit seedy, Barb, honey, and as usual he was right, my God, this isn’t right at all. Hon, you can put your gown back on.”

The girl complies, pulling it back on and blinking at Barbara again. Barbara musters up the best smile she can manage. “Okay, you did a great job. Can you tell me how long it’s been since you’ve eaten? Hold up your fingers.”

The child holds up three fingers- counting her thumb- and Barbara nods. “Three hours?”

Head shake.

Oh.

“Three days?”

Nod.

Shit.

The kid seems to notice Barbara’s anger and shies away from her, moving back towards the corner. Barbara feels a flash of sympathy and sighs, trying not to think about the implications of the entire ordeal- what had happened to this girl, and what she had been roped into working for. 

“Oh, no, sweetheart, I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. How does it sound if I go get you a snack really fast?”

That one gets an excited nod, and Barbara manages to smile a little brighter.

“I’ll be right back.”

The vending machine is just down the hall and Barbara shoves her hand into her pocket, pulling out a small fistful of coins (Adam had given her a bunch for luck, though she’s sure it isn’t helping at the moment), clumsily placing them into the machine. The coin deposit is worn down, and Barbara has to put each coin in twice after they get rejected, but she ends up selecting as many granola bars as she can pay for, figuring protein to be the best bet. 

The walk back to the cell is short and she all but runs through it, opening the door and waiting for the girl to look up before walking in.

She hands them to the kid and watches her eat; she shoves the entire bar into her mouth the second she rips the wrapper off and doesn’t seem particularly inclined to manners, occasionally looking up at Barbara nervously as she wolfs down two of the bars, shoving the third one into the pocket of her gown.

“Okay, I’m glad you at least got something, I’ll get you something else to eat soon, okay? I have a few more questions, if that’s alright.”

She nods and Barbara asks the mundane questions- her age (12, by finger count), her name (no answer), what happened (the girl stares at the ground and doesn’t answer, and Barbara lets it go, though scenarios flood her mind- a cult, a long-buried research project gone wrong.)

After a few more minutes, Barbara finishes her standard questions and the both of them simply soak in each other’s presence, Barbara reaching out and pushing a piece of hair from her face. The kid seems to soften at her touch, closing her eyes and leaning into Barbara’s hand. She leaves it there.

After a few minutes, a clock chimes out the hour- eleven o’clock on the dot.

“Okay, dear, I have to go home now, but I’m going to come see you tomorrow, alright? I’ll see you then.” Reculantly, Barbara lets go, walking slowly out the cell door with a small wave.

The girl curls back in the middle of the cell and closes her eyes. 

-

The woman who’s name Lydia is having trouble remembering closes the door, and then she’s alone again. The woman was nice. Dr. Maitland. She was nice. Her name was Dr. Maitland. She’s gone.

Lydia is alone and Lydia is cold.

God, she’s cold. It’s hard to think, everything is fuzzy, the granola bar in her pocket is for Beej but she’s _hungry_ and cold and cold and cold. 

She curls in tighter around herself, ignoring the jolts of pain from her scars- they had touched up part of the topmost symbol on her back, and it ached. She grabs for it, pressing the weight of her fingers on it in a hope to make it _stop_ , and her fingers come away bloody. She shucks off her gown, twisting it into a more rope-ish shape, and wraps it around her chest, hoping to cover the wound on her back. She runs her hands along her now-bare stomach, humming (or whining, she can’t really tell) to herself and tucking her feet under her legs in an attempt to warm up. 

Doctors are not usually that polite. Nor do they call her nice names, nor do they give her food and ask her name and say what’s happening to her isn’t fair. And they most certainly don’t touch her, unless it’s to hurt her.

All of this is _very_ confusing.

Lydia sighs, rolling over to stare at the ceiling in a fruitless effort to get some rest. She’ll need her strength to get Beetlejuice through all the new symbols carved along her skin.


	2. the first blood, and all that entails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the powers that be, unholy and terrifying.

Barbara paces angrily through the living room, throwing her hands up. “She’s a _child_ and they made me sign a waiver saying I’m committed to the life of the project and I can’t leave and-”

“Honey, slow down.” Adam pushes his glasses up his nose, and grabs her arm gently, pulling her onto the couch next to him. “We’ll think of something. We always do.”

“Those bastards are hurting that kid, I- they _carved_ things into her. She’s twelve and she has a fucking Devil’s Trap across her chest, Adam, it’s- I- how _dare_ they do that? And why do they need me?”

“I don’t know, honey. I’m- I don’t really know what to do, but we both can do everything we can to help that girl, right?” 

Barbara sighs. “You’re right.” She leans on his shoulder and he holds her, both lost in their own thoughts- Adam’s mostly concerned, Barbara’s fiercely angry. 

How was it fair that they wanted nothing but a child to keep safe, and they were left without one, but those people got to do _that_ to a preteen with no repercussions? 

-

The worker’s room is always crowded in the mornings, exhausted geniuses stumbling in to chug cheap coffee. Barbara is no exception, sipping her coffee quietly in the corner, her pockets already stuffed full with candy bars and granola for the kid. That, within itself, made her angry- she wished she could bring a sandwich or some goddamn home cooking for the girl (she’s skinnier than a _twig_ , for God’s sake).

The morning isn’t going well.

The old, frayed wallpaper across the walls perfectly mirror Barbara’s mood as she drinks the stuff (old, bland coffee, barely enough to keep her awake). Other workers make small talk around her- mostly older men, laughing loudly, being obnoxious and rude- sexist comments, vulgar language toward the subject, all the general things you’d expect from men who think themselves geniuses.

A red headed woman with a large smile and nervous eyes scoots over to stand next to her. “Hi! You’re Barbara Maitland, the new doctor?”

“The very same.”

“I’m Delia Deetz, Charles’ wife. Not much of a scientist, but I tend to stick around here.” She gives a high pitched, obviously fake laugh, and Barbara keeps sipping her coffee. “Well, did you meet our famous subject yet?”

“Mmm.” 

“You know, I suppose you should be filled in on the nature of the thing. Seeing her is always a shock, but- I know she looks like a child, but there are darker things afoot.”

“And what would that nature be?”

Delia leans in conspiratorially and cups a paint-covered hand around her mouth, whispering loudly. “Demonic.”

“Pardon?”

“The subject- she’s bonded with a demon, some magic that took place before I got here. She says the monster’s name three times and she appears and _kills_ things.”

“Why would she do that?” Barbara asks, interest seeping into her tone.

“Well, powerful people need powerful weapons. And they’ll pay a boatload for it, of course.” Another loud laugh.

Barbara begins to put the pieces together, and ends with an absolutely horrifying picture.

“You sell her and the- the demon? To other people? To hurt? For _money_?”

“Of course!” Delia answers. “They’re monsters, Dr. Maitland, don’t be so shocked. You’ve yet to see the demon- say your prayers when you do, trust me. You’re here to work with the subject, but you’ll end up in the demon’s crosshairs soon enough.”

Barbara nods and takes her leave.

-

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” 

Smoke fills her cell as the bright lights flicker and fizzle out, and Lydia’s back and chest burn as she says his name the third time, but she ignores it resolutely, waiting for the smoke to dissolve to grin crookedly at Beej, waving the granola bar. 

“Lyds, what did you- oh!” He grabs for it, eats the whole thing (wrapper and all) in one bite, and then turns back to her, swallowing. “Did you eat already?”

“Mhm. One of the new doctors got me food, she said she’s gonna bring more tonight. I’ll save more for you.”

He frowns at her, raising an eyebrow. “No, you eat it. I’m dead. You need your strength.” 

Lydia puts her hands on her hips and glares. “So do you! What if we have to go do something bad again? I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“I won’t, babes.” He gives her a sharp-toothed smile. “You know me, ghost with the most.”

Lydia sighs and crosses her arms, and without a word Beej pulls her into a hug, putting his chin on her head.

“Is the new doctor nice?” He asks as Lydia leans on him.

“Yeah. She’s really nice. I think I trust her.”

“Oh? Bold words, coming from you, Lyds.”

Lydia doesn’t respond, just leans against Beej’s chest, looking for a mostly non-existent heartbeat. He sighs, clunking his head against the wall. They sit like that for a little while until heavy footsteps approach, Beej’s hands freezing from where they were fidgeting with Lydia’s hair.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” she spits out, and he disappears in a cloud of smoke, the door creaking open.

-

Charles had suffered through several very angry phone calls with Maxie Dean. The man was always angry, but this was new- they had gotten ahold of a Russian, some big-league spy, and they couldn’t get a word out of him. 

_C’mon, Chuck, I know that girl of yours can crack him-_

And- well- Charles is always happy to serve his country.

He starts walking towards the weapon’s cell, Delia and the new woman- Maitland- join him, Delia looking nervous, Maitland looking angry.

“What are you doing?” Maitland asks.

“I’m going to have the subject do its job, and you are _not_ going to interfere.”

-

Lydia looks up at the arrivals, tucking her arms to her chest raptor style. It’s Charles Deetz (the bastard), Delia Deetz, and Dr. Maitland, all of whom look like they haven’t slept in about a month.

Without a word, Charles grabs her arm, drags her out of her cell and down the hallway, guards flanking them. Lydia thinks she hears Dr. Maitland protest, but she can’t tell, panic flooding every bit of her.

No, no, no, no-

Lydia screeches as loud as she can, struggling and screaming, to no avail. And then they’re at the stupid door and Charles puts her inside and-

There’s a man at a desk inside, white as a sheet, with a big red X on his forehead in marker. A spy.

He’s babbling something- “No, no, I don’t want to die, I'm sorry, I’ll tell you everything, please, _please_ -”- and Lydia looks at him with sad eyes, glancing towards the viewing port on one of the walls, thick glass covering the room which holds the doctors. Dr. Maitland is staring at her with something like horror. Charles is smiling.

She blinks. Charles nods at her.

She knows what she has to do.

She sits down across from the man and feels around in the corner of her brain that she shares with Beej, trading back and forth thoughts and feelings quicker than words- anger, sadness, resigned obedience.

Lydia looks back at the spy and lets her power grow. She’s glowing, now, levitating just slightly off of the chair, and then-

There’s blood and guts and other things- more horrifying things- gushing from the man’s body, and she lets her powers absorb it, hands and body and face soaking in the blood. She hates it, she hates it, she hates it, but at least she didn’t have to have Beej do it, keeping him safe in his place in the Neitherworld.

The Neitherworld didn’t sound like much fun when he talked about it- all dark rooms and silence and loneliness, hallways that lead to nowhere, nothing but Lydia’s emotions to keep him company, handcuffs on his wrists and traps in every corner- but at least no one could hurt him there.

The man’s body slumps onto the desk, barely more than a skeleton, and Lydia feels around what she absorbed- his energy, his very soul, like a vampire in Beej’s stories.

Charles’ voice comes over the intercom. “Where was his last known location?”

She doesn’t want to answer. She does, softly, her voice rasping. “Moscow.”

The door opens back up and she stumbles back to her cell without a guide, leaving bloody footprints behind her. She can’t look Dr. Maitland in the eye.

-

Barbara retches in the bathroom for half an hour and walks out on shaky legs, closing the door to her office tight. 

This government funded experiment was specifically made to make a preteen girl torture foreign spies.

Alright then. This is not Barbara’s forte. 

Focus on the little things first. She’s probably freezing and dirty from all the blood. She also definitely hasn’t eaten more than two granola bars in at least three days.

Okay. Okay.

A few minutes later, Barbara walks down to the cell, pointedly ignoring all the blood surrounding it. Inside, the girl is sitting against the opposite wall, staring blankly. She’s completely covered in red.

Barbara waves a little, and the girl doesn’t react. Most likely completely out of it. Barbara tries her next tactic, crouching down in front of her.

“Hey, honey, can you hear me?” 

A jolt, and then the girl is firmly awake, blinking at her with fear in her eyes and scrambling backwards.

“It’s okay, you’re fine, it’s just me. I brought some food and a washcloth so you don’t have to be all dirty.”

The girl snatches all of the objects out of her hands, wolfing down one granola bar and putting away two, then scrubbing at her face with the cloth until it’s almost clean and the cloth is a rusty orange.

She gives Barbara the barest hint of a smile and Barbara sits back, grinning. The smile slides off her face when she remembers the reason she’s here.

“Sweetheart, can you tell me about what happened earlier?”

The girl looks down. “Had to.”

“I know, honey, I was there. I know you didn’t want to.”

“It _hurt_ ,” she mutters, crossing her arms and shaking. “Didn’t want to. I didn’t.”

“I know. It’s not your fault you were born with those powers.” Was it? Barbara genuinely has no idea how she got them, how she ended up bonded to a demon who comes when you call its name. And the organization's files had been no help, redacted down to the letter- all she knew was this place is an area of supernatural study in order to assist the United States in the Cold War, as had been stated on the job application.

No matter how it happened, there’s no excuse to torture a child.

The girl shakes her head and doesn’t speak again, and Barbara- well, Barbara reaches over and pulls her into her arms. Who can blame her?

The girl sinks into her, putting her head on Barbara’s shoulder, and Barbara sits there with her until her breaths even out into the soft wheezing of sleep. Barbara feels her heart swell in her chest- _God,_ this must be what motherhood feels like. She’s only known this girl for a few days, but here she is, holding onto her in a cell while she sleeps, blood still covering the girl’s hands.

Barbara struggles for a minute, but she manages to pick the girl up and get over to the phone on the cell’s wall, ringing Adam and quietly explaining that she’d be home late. He responds with a soft Okay, I love you, and she smiles in spite of herself, hanging up slowly and sitting back down.

The girl shifts in her sleep, holding tighter to Barbara, and Barbara lets herself relax, combing her fingers through the girl’s hair, eventually letting the hum of machinery and the comfort of a small weight on her to lull her to sleep.

-

Lydia wakes up screaming and finds Dr. Maitland still there, sleeping with her head against the wall, Lydia curled on her lap. Lydia makes herself stop screaming, inhaling and exhaling much too quickly. It felt so real, the nightmare she was stuck in-  
completely alone, without even Beej in the back of her head; with a spike of panic, she feels around for him and finds him there, at least, and- it’s just Dr. Maitland, right?

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!” she whispers, and then there he is, rubbing sleep from his eyes and startling when he sees the other woman.

“Babes, what the hell?”

She shushes him, wiggling out of the doctor’s grip. “Needed to check on you.”

“With her in here?”

“Yes!” 

He rolls his eyes but relents. “I’m fine, okay? Perfectly safe. Are you?”

“Yeah, I-“

Dr. Maitland stirs in the corner and they both freeze, Beej disappearing with a small snap as she opens her eyes.

“Oh, no, it’s- oh, it’s late. I’m so sorry, I hope I didn't wake you up.” She stands up, running a hand through her hair. “I should probably be heading home, is that okay?”

Lydia nods and Dr. Maitland nods back, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She walks out of the cell and calls Adam the second she reaches another phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you enjoy!


	3. children to care for (and bosses to kill)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam and Lydia interact as best they can.

When Lydia was seven, Beej figured out she could summon him without saying his name. 

This was directly after she got her first symbol carved into her, so he didn’t think about it too hard at the time, much too busy slowly ripping the limbs off the surgeon who did it, but later on he had a good long talk with her about it, and- well- she just hadn’t said it. Not even one time. When Lyd was ten, crying in his arms after a nightmare, Beej realized it was because of their emotional rapport thing- when she needed someone, when she was sad or angry or scared, her feelings literally pulled him into the human realm.

And now, at twelve, it’s happening again. Not that he _minds_ , of course, but it’s nice to have some sort of warning when he gets called in. (Not the main worry right now. Right now he’s got to get Lyd’s death grip off his arm, got to get her to stop crying, and figure out who he’s got to disembowel).

He manages to wrench her fingers from his arm, holding her hand instead, and lets her finish crying before he speaks up.

“Aw, babes, summoning me without the B-word seems to be an emerging talent. What’s goin’ on?” 

And- _fantastic_ \- she’s non-verbal. Another helpful step. God, he’s trying not to be bitter, but sometimes it would be nice to be able to sleep without having to kill someone for this girl of his. Nice to be able to go have some fun, maybe, haunting some cool places, instead of being tethered here.

“Okay, uh, did someone do something?”

Headshake.

“Okay, was it a dream?”

Nod.

“Was it one of the ones where I leave?”

She nods again, and- oh, _fuck_ , this is why he doesn’t sleep. Because she needs him. Because- for some stupid reason- she actually loves him. He feels his face soften against his will and gives her a crooked smile. “No worries about that, Lydia, I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your life. And afterlife. You are _stuck_ with me.”

She giggles and he smiles proudly, letting go of her hand and stretching. “Alright, so you want me to stick around tonight? I can leave tomorrow morning, none’a the doctors’ll see.”

Lydia nods and he sighs, sitting down next to her. “Hey, you wanna hear a story?”

-

Barbara pushes her way into the building in the early morning, head swimming with a migraine. God, she has so many reports to do. The halls are empty, for once, and Barbara knocks back a cup of black coffee, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and turning left towards the cell hallway. She just needs to stop in, she tells herself, make sure the girl’s sleeping, and then get some work done.

( _Oh, yeah, Barbara,_ mutters a voice in her head. _Keep telling yourself you’re just coming for work_.)

To her surprise, however, she doesn’t seem to be alone. As she approaches the cell she hears a voice- raspy and deep, completely unknown and mostly unintelligible.

The voice cuts off abruptly as she reaches the cell’s bars. 

There’s a stocky teenager trying their (her? Barbara doesn’t want to assume) best to hide behind the kid, green hair down to their shoulders, completely knotted, the roots of it a dark brown, with a large chest hidden by a ragged old striped coat, pants with the same pattern completing the outfit. Their feet are bare and incredibly grimy, nails painted with chipped black.

Well, this must be the demon. 

Barbara can’t even process fear or nervousness, instead feeling anger grow in her chest. Not one, but two children- _children_ \- being harmed in this facility.

The kid- Barbara’s kid? Jesus, can she even think of her like that?- has her chin up, glaring defiantly as Barbara walks up to the cell. “Don’t come in!”

Barbara puts her hands up as she stands outside the bars. “It’s just me. Hi. Who’s this?”

They both cock their heads at her at the same time, then whip around to look at each other, having a very intense conversation with several exaggerated glances.

“This is Beej,” the girl says after a few seconds. “He’s my best friend.”

(He, Barbara notes.)

Barbara opens the cell bars, walking over softly to look them both over. Beej has his hand on the girl’s shoulder, eyes glowing in what could be fear or distrust.

Barbara takes the slow and soft approach.

“It’s very good to meet you,” Barbara says, putting out her hand for the teenager to shake. He moves backward immediately, nails growing out of his hands like claws and teeth baring, showing sharp fangs reminiscent of some form of feline.

Barbara drops her hand and the girl elbows Beej in the side, staring pointedly. After a few seconds, he groans, retracting his claws and scratching the back of his head. “Uh. Hi. Sorry.”

The kid glares some more and he sighs. “What, Lyds, I’m being ni-”

And then he freezes up, looking at Barbara in horror. What had-

Oh.

The weapon has a _name_. And Barbara is obviously not supposed to know it.

“Please don’t tell anyone!” The girl- Lyds- cries. “It’s just a nickname, I promise-”

“Hey, calm down. It’s good you have a name, I’m not going to take it from you. It’s yours.” 

Beej squints at her, confused. “What?”

“Honestly, it was getting annoying calling you ‘the kid’ in my head. I’m assuming Lyds is short for Lydia?”

Lydia nods and gives Barbara a genuine smile. “See?” she says to Beej, her hands on her hips. “I _told_ you we could trust her.”

“Well, excuse my hesitation.” He rolls his eyes fondly, ruffling Lydia’s hair as she puts her arms around him. “As if your trust has never been misplaced.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lydia looks back to Barbara, and for the first time the doctor notices how her eyes reflect the dim light of the hallway, making them glow slightly in the darkness. 

She really isn’t human.

Barbara finds herself not caring.

-

Barbara swipes a file on Lydia from the meeting room when no one’s looking, going home early that day for her and Adam to look it over. The door to their home is unlocked and Barbara drops her shoes in the entry hall, sliding onto the couch next to her (apparently sleeping) husband and kissing him.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Adam shoots up, fumbling for his glasses. “Did you get that file?”

Barbara nods, pulling her satchel off her shoulder and spreading the stolen papers across the table. Photos and redacted messages take up most of the file. The photos mainly consist of Lydia’s markings, notes on what the symbols mean and what they were meant to do- apparently, every single one of them was supposed to banish Beetlejuice, carved from when she was seven to just a few months ago.

It obviously hadn’t worked.

Adam finds a note, hand-written, tucked behind one of the pictures. “The subject seems to be experiencing symptoms of Autism Spectrum Disorder,” he reads aloud, face going pale. “Must follow up with more tests - Deetz.”

Barbara grabs for Adam’s hand as the words sink in for the both of them, shifting closer to him, and Adam grips her hand tightly, feeling for the collar of his shirt and fidgeting.

“What’re we going to _do_ , Barbara?” Adam asks, and Barbara sighs softly.

“I don’t know.”

“Can you- can’t we do _something_ , something to help this poor girl? She’s so young, Barb, this is so disgustingly horrible, I can’t even fathom it.”

Anger rises in Barbara’s chest unbidden. “Well, unless we go around murdering Charles Deetz with our bare hands and then run screaming with a traumatized twelve year old, I don’t quite think anything will work.”

Her tone must come off more snappish than she intended, Adam stiffening next to her, and she sighs again. “I didn’t mean it like that, Adam. I’m sorry.”

“I know, darling.” He relaxes, leaning on her shoulder. “And murdering Deetz isn’t on the table right now. Until we have a better plan, we just have to do our best. I just wish I could help this girl, even though I can’t get in.”

Barbara hums, an idea forming in her mind. “Well, just because you can’t come to work with me doesn’t mean you can’t help out, right?”

-

The next time Barbara goes into work, she’s got three pages of a letter from Adam hidden in her lab coat pocket, addressed to Lydia. She hopes the girl won’t be mad she told her husband her name, but she figures letters may make up for it.

The other doctors leave her alone, thankfully, and she walks down to her office first, dropping off newly written notes and picking up some report Deetz had wanted her to look over. She places it on her desk, checks to make sure the hallway’s deserted, and then sprints down to Lydia’s cell.

She skids in through the door and Lydia visibly brightens when she sees her, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Hi, sweetheart, I’ve got you a surprise.” Lydia’s eyes widen as Barbara pulls the letters out of her pocket, grinning. “My husband Adam heard about you and wanted to say hello, but we can’t get him here, so we pulled the next best thing.”

Lydia smiles, rocking a little. “You mean he wrote something for me?”

“Hell yeah he did.”

Lydia grabs the first paper in excitement and then just stares at it, looking up in confusion. “Dr. Maitland?”

“Yes?” Barbara responds, sitting down next to her.

“I- what does this say? I’m sorry.”

Shit. Barbara should have realized that Deetz wouldn’t have educated his subject.

“No, don’t be sorry. Do you know your alphabet yet?” 

Lydia shrugs, looking down, and Barbara speaks up again. “Don’t worry, Lydia, I can read it to you- if you want, okay?”

“Oh!” She says, her face brightening again. “Yes!”

She hands over the paper carefully, like it’s something precious, and Barbara smooths it out on her lap, beginning to read. 

“Dear Lydia,” she begins. “My name is Adam, and I’m Barbara’s husband. I’ve heard a lot about you and I decided to write in order to check up on you as best I can from out here. Each letter has some stuff that I’d want you to know- this is the introduction, the next is about me, and the last one is some questions that I thought you might like to answer- no pressure of course!

All my love, Adam.”

Lydia’s _beaming_ , and Barbara laughs. “Like it so far?”

“Can you read the next one?”

“Mhm.” She pulls that one out. “Hi again! This is the page for the stuff about me. I live in an apartment a few blocks from where you live, with Barbara and the bugs that we share with :)-” (he actually wrote a smiley face, what a nerd, Barbara thinks fondly)- “I’m Costa Rican and I’m thirty-two. I got married to Barbara on the best day of my life twelve years ago and it’s been great ever since! My favorite thing to do is modeling-” At this, he starts to ramble, excited scrawl covering the page- “And I’m a lot like you- I’m autistic too, which I think is pretty cool! Anyway, check out the next page for some questions. Adam.”

Barbara pulls out the next page without Lydia even having to ask.

“Okay, last one.”

She reads all the questions Adam sent and pulls out a fresh piece of paper. “I’ll help you write out the answers, okay?”

Lydia nods, describing what she wants to say, and Barbara notes it down dutifully, tucking the new paper back into her satchel. She hands the letter over to Lydia, and the girl holds the pages tightly, hesitating for a moment before getting up and grabbing Barbara around the middle.

“Thank you,” she says, muffled in Barbara’s chest. “Thank you for acting like I’m human, Dr. Maitland, it means a lot.”

“Oh, honey,” Barbara mutters, cupping the back of Lydia’s head with one of her hands. “Don’t let anyone take being human away from you.”

Lydia sighs, leaning into Barbara’s chest and taking a deep breath, grabbing for the material of her lab coat. Barbara lets her.

-

Barbara Maitland is nowhere to be found.

Delia’s not an idiot, not like her husband. Delia knows exactly where she is.

When Delia marches down to the cell, she finds the subject with her skinny little arms wrapped around Maitland, head against her chest. The doctor looks up, locks eyes with Delia, and tightens her grip on the subject, every muscle in her body tense.

Delia-

Delia wants to leave them be. But Charles is waiting.

She pushes open the cell and the subject lets out a little gasp, pressing closer to Maitland and screwing her eyes shut. 

“Can I help you, Mrs. Deetz?” Barbara asks, words dripping venom.

“Charles needs to see you in his office, look over those reports you sent in.” Delia puts a fake cheerfulness into her words and Barbara sighs, squeezing the subject into a hug for a few seconds before letting go. Delia notes that the subject hangs onto her lab coat and Barbara does not attempt to stop her.

“Fine,” Barbara responds, turning to the subject. “I’ll come back later, I promise.” 

That’s said softly, something Delia’s obviously not supposed to hear. When Barbara sweeps out of the room, Delia lets herself look at the subject- for the first time, she doesn’t look useless or terrifying. She looks like a twelve year old in a gown too small and dirty for her, hands still looking for someone to hold onto.

Delia looks away and marches out of the cell. She doesn’t let herself turn around.

-

Barbara towers over Charles, even when he’s standing, so glaring at him with her arms crossed and her chin up while he’s sitting down makes her seem even taller.

“What is it?”

He smiles his stupid piranha smile. “Just wanted to check on your findings with the subject. We hired you to make her presentable for missions outside of this laboratory.”

“Well, that’s _fascinating_ , because I wasn’t notified what I was hired for nor was I aware of what goes on here until I saw her for myself-“

“Well, this is the government, Dr. Maitland, secrets must be kept.” Charles leans back in his chair, meeting Barbara’s eyes. “You signed the contract. You have to do your job.”

Barbara fights down the incredibly strong urge to punch his teeth down his throat.

“What do you want me to say? She’s got horrific PTSD, a severe anxiety disorder, she’s been abused, she’s malnourished, and she’s touch starved- all of which are, not surprisingly, the fault of the government that you work for.” Barbara balls her hands into fists without even realizing it, attempting to quiet her voice. “Director Deetz, I’m sorry for my outburst, but you’ve got to give me time to work with her. I don’t have a magic cure.”

He sighs. “Fine. Take another few days to learn what you can around here, but I expect reports on my desk as soon as possible, Dr. Maitland, do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

Barbara doesn’t let herself scream in frustration until she’s firmly back in her office, the door shut tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated!


	4. come with me and escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder plots and good old-fashioned lover boys.

Lydia hides Adam’s letters in the slot behind the bench in her cell, folding them carefully with her back to the security camera.

In the back of her mind, Beej is feeling very worried. After a minute of waiting it out, Lydia closes her eyes and pops herself into the Neitherworld.

The Neitherworld is hard to get into and almost impossible to get out of- Lydia has to summon Beej so he can leave, and when Lydia goes in it usually ends with someone screaming at her until the shock to her system drags her back out.

Nonetheless, she ventures in occasionally, to check on Beej without having to drag him from the one place he’s safe.

When she materializes, she wears the same cloak she always does in this dimension- red and black, wrapped securely around her. It’s much better than the hospital gown.

She walks through the endless halls, carefully avoiding the traps along the floor until she reaches Beej’s room. She knocks on the door three times and it slides open to reveal him, sitting cross legged on the ground of a cell that mirrors her own.

He blinks at her before piecing together what’s going on and promptly staggering up, handcuffs breaking away so he can grab her by the shoulders. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I needed to check on you, you felt worried-“

“Worried? Me?” He waves it off and Lydia glares at him. It only takes a couple of seconds for him to break.

“Of course I’m worried, Lyds!” He laughs, slightly hysterically, letting her go to pace around the room. “You- you’re trusting the Maitland woman! That’s not _safe_! She’s just gonna hurt us like everyone else, and then what? Huh?”

“Beej, you met her, she’s good-“

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, sure, sure she is! She’s good and she’s gonna love you and you’re gonna forget about _me_ and about _everything_ , Lydia! She’s gonna take you!”

Lydia’s heart drops into her stomach.

So that’s what this is about.

“Beej, what do you mean? Why would I forget about you? Just because she’s nice, it doesn’t mean-“

“Lydia, you told her your name. You hugged her. Jesus Christ, she’s _normal_! You- you need someone like her to watch you, and I want you to be safe-“

“Beetlejuice!” She yells, hands banging against her chest. “I’m not going to forget about you! I’m not going to _leave _you here! Why would I do that, do you really not trust me that much?”__

__“I have to _trust_ you more than anyone else in the entire fucking world, Lydia, because in case you haven’t noticed, we share a _brain_. Sometimes I wish-“_ _

__“Wish what?”_ _

__He laughs again, the sound desperate. “God, sometimes I wish it was anyone but you. I would be fine if I was bonded to _anyone_ but you.”_ _

__Lydia’s world cracks to pieces._ _

__She turns around, pushes open the door, and runs._ _

__-_ _

__That’s not what he meant, he didn’t mean it, he _didn’t-__ _

__Beej watches Lydia run with something like numbness taking over._ _

__He didn’t mean it like that. He meant- he meant-_ _

__He meant that it would hurt less if he didn’t care about his vessel, he meant he’s tired, he meant he wants to take a break, he meant _don’t leave, please,_ he meant-_ _

__“Lyds!”_ _

__He tries to run after her, but the stupid door is locked. Stupid, stupid, stupid-_ _

__“Lydia, I didn’t mean it, come back! Please!”_ _

__There’s no response from their rapport. There’s no response through anything._ _

__Anger rises, then, replacing the grief- five stages, right?_ _

__“You know what? Fine! I don’t need this, I don’t need to deal with this shit! Fuck you too!”_ _

__He’s floating, he notices distantly, hair whipping around as his feelings shove themselves into energy._ _

__“ _Fuck_ you!”_ _

__No response._ _

__-_ _

__When Delia goes to check on the subject, she’s near-catonic in the corner of her cell, shaking, her eyes wide open and a thousand miles away._ _

__Delia shakes and shakes and shakes her until she bursts up with a cry, beginning to sob even as she crumples away from Delia, muttering to herself._ _

__“No, no, no, no, no, no, come back, I’m sorry, come back-“_ _

__Delia pulls the subject’s arm away from her face. “What are you talking about?”_ _

__The subject snaps her mouth shut, eyes beginning to glow, purple and green._ _

__Delia lets her be._ _

__-_ _

__Lydia lasts precisely two hours before she starts crying again. She can’t feel anything but white-hot anger from Beej. Nothing else. He hates her. He’s gone and he hates her._ _

__It takes a day and a half for Dr. Maitland to come visit her, and she immediately noticed something’s up, hands on her hips._ _

__“What’s wrong?”_ _

__And then she’s sobbing again._ _

__Dr. Maitland pulls her over into her lap, and Lydia doesn’t fight it, shaking and shaking and-_ _

__

__-_ _

__Barbara’s hands shake a little when Lydia grabs onto her, but she stays on track, wiping tears off the girl’s face. “What happened?”_ _

__“He. He’s worried that I trust you, he’s worried that I’m gonna leave him, and I wouldn’t, really I wouldn’t, I-“_ _

__“I know you wouldn’t. You say he’s angry?”_ _

__“It’s all I can feel from him. Usually, even when he’s mad, there’s something else there, but- he won’t let me into where he is and I can’t summon him because then he’ll just be angrier and-“_ _

__“Take a deep breath, honey.”_ _

__Lydia curls into herself, taking a shaky breath._ _

__“Okay, good. Good job. Now, how can you talk to him? What’s the best way to do it?”_ _

__“With the rapport,” she sniffles. “I can try with the rapport?”_ _

__“There you go. That’s a good first step.”_ _

__Lydia sits up, nodding. “Okay. Okay. Okay. I-“_ _

__She squeezes her eyes shut, grabbing at her hair and pulling. Barbara sits backward slowly, ready to help if she needs anything- or Beej does, now that she thinks about it._ _

__Shit. Two kids._ _

__-_ _

__Lydia starts by trying to crack through Beetlejuice’s anger the only way she knows how- slowly, and carefully, with everything she has in her- the fear and the sadness and the loneliness and the small bit of her own anger, tucked deep inside her thoughts._ _

__It doesn’t crack. It just stays there, impenetrable, unending, until-_ _

__It gives way, just a little. A little more. And then-_ _

__Lydia floats up, hands thrust around her ears, and then Beetlejuice is standing in the cell, eyes rimmed in red and nails bleeding._ _

__Dr. Maitland stands back, and the two demon-children stare at each other._ _

__“I didn’t mean it like that,” Beetlejuice mutters, and then Lydia throws herself at him, the two of them tumbling against the back wall and clutching each other like the world is ending._ _

__“I _know_ you didn’t, you fucking idiot, I’m sorry, I never wanted you to get hurt-“_ _

__“It’s not _your_ fault, and I just was scared-“_ _

__“I wouldn’t leave you, I couldn’t, ever, I promise-“_ _

__The conversation filters out until they’re just laughing or crying or maybe both, shuttling feelings and thoughts back and forth._ _

__“You smell terrible,” Lydia says at last, and Beej snorts, finally letting go to take a good look at her._ _

__“You don’t look too good yourself, don’t come after my hygiene.”_ _

__Lydia laughs again, tugging on his hand. “Look, c’mon, we gotta make proper introductions.”_ _

__-_ _

__Beetlejuice follows her apprehensively, waving at Dr. Maitland. “Yo.”_ _

__“Hi. I’m glad to see you.”_ _

__He was so scared she’d replace him, but-_ _

__She _does_ seem nice, a small smile on her face and hands twisted together in her lap. Lydia sits down next to her and Beej follows suit, the three of them in comfortable silence for a few minutes._ _

__“Beej?”_ _

__“Hm?”_ _

__Lydia turns to him seriously. “I'm sorry we’re stuck in here, but I’m glad that out of everyone I ended up stuck with you.”_ _

__“D’aw, babes.” He smiles at her, the last of his anger breaking away. “Me too.”_ _

__-_ _

__Dr. Maitland sticks around until Lydia falls asleep on Beetlejuice’s shoulder, leaving just him and the doctor awake. He looks over at her, careful not to jostle Lyds, and she gives another slightly sad smile._ _

__“Was she okay?” He hears himself asking, and Dr. Maitland’s smile fades away._ _

__“She was very, very upset without you.”_ _

__“Oh.”_ _

__“She cares about you very much, you know,” Dr. Maitland says, looking down. “More than anything, I think. You’re a very good person.”_ _

__“Not a person,” he says, on instinct._ _

__“Coulda fooled me.”_ _

__Barbara reaches over and pushes a stray piece of hair out of Beetlejuice’s face, off instinct or an attempt to comfort or _something_. Beej suddenly violently remembers how goddamn touch starved he is, doesn’t move away from it, and Barbara tucks his hair behind his ear, standing up._ _

__“Are you two going to be okay if I go home?”_ _

__“Yup,” he responds, popping the p. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow?”_ _

__“Count on it.”_ _

__-_ _

__“I just don’t see why torturing the subject would help!” Delia slams her hands on the desk and Charles glares at her, sweeping out of the room. After a few seconds, the woman follows._ _

__Charles and Delia walk down to the cell in angry silence, Charles slamming the bars open with a bit more force than strictly necessary. The subject jumps, eyes flickering red and then dying down, the demon next to her baring her teeth._ _

__The subject blinks and the demon disappears in a flash of green light, momentarily blinding both humans before it fades, leaving the subject staring at them._ _

__Again._ _

__Delia shifts uncomfortably and Charles straightens his spine, trying to make up for his Charles-ness by acting taller and stronger. “Get up.”_ _

__The subject gets up._ _

__Charles walks out the cell, the subject following behind and Delia bringing up the back, noticing the girl shivering, her gown wrapped over half of her chest, covered in blood._ _

__Before she even thinks about what she’s doing, Delia peels off her sweatshirt and puts it over the subject’s shoulders. The girl flinches before turning around to look at her in surprise, grasping at the soft material. Delia winks at her before looking back up, the girl taking the hint and hurriedly throwing her gown over the hoodie before Charles turns around._ _

__Well, at least she’ll be warmer._ _

__They reach the infamous cell block and Charles pulls open the door of one of the interrogation rooms, pushing the subject inside._ _

__Delia winces as the screams start up._ _

__-_ _

__“What if we just ran with her?” Adam asks one night, after Barbara flops on their bed, completely exhausted._ _

__What-_ _

__What if they _did?__ _

__-_ _

__They have a run-down old farm hidden in Connecticut, don’t they?_ _

__Who’d be able to find them there?_ _

__-_ _

__They trek down for a weekend, taking a little plane flown by a nice old man who was sure to never remember their faces or names._ _

__The farm is far from top shape, decaying wood and frayed furniture taking up most of it, but when the Maitlands get themselves a running project, there isn’t much that can stop them._ _

__After a few trips down to the old hardware store, Adam gets busy repairing the old bedrooms, while Barbara sews, tapes up, and repairs so much of the furniture that it starts looking less like a crummy old house and more like a long-time home._ _

__They do the bedrooms last- their own being the master bedroom, tucked in the attic for some reason. Four other bedrooms are spread around the house- a tiny one, shoved in the back, one next to the living room, and a third on the second floor, next to the big staircase._ _

__Barbara and Adam decide on letting the kids pick their own, fixing up each room to the best of their abilities._ _

__The trip back to California is not one either of them are happy to make._ _

__-_ _

__Barbara gets really good at stealing._ _

__Two weeks after their trip down to Connecticut, and she’s ran with enough evidence to bring the company down in a burst of fiery legal justice. The only issue, of course, being that the legal system already knows about everything going down._ _

__Thus, Barbara and Adam have to take matters into their own hands._ _

__The living room table has been turned into a plan-creation area, stacks of papers and notes surrounding it. Adam keeps a notepad handy on him at all times, and on a weekend when neither of them are busy, they go to a used car lot and pull a beatdown old van out of it, switching the plates and adding tint to the windows. Adam had elected himself the getaway driver and had taken to driving around the lab, careful to avoid detection, writing down notes on the exits._ _

__Barbara focuses on helping out Lydia- going to her cell and talking to her, trying to teach her things- reading, mostly, though other subjects sometimes come up- the girl is inquisitive beyond her years, asking questions about anything and everything. She busies herself otherwise with delivering Adam’s letters and doing her best to keep the Deetzes off Lydia’s back._ _

__(Delia, actually, isn’t quite so bad- Barbara’s not so much of an idiot as to not to recognize the woman’s hoodie around Lydia’s shoulders, anyway, and she knows that the blankets she sneaks in can only do so much._ _

__Barbara almost feels bad when she grabs Delia’s keycard from her desk, shoving it deep into her pocket.)_ _

__Charles, on the other hand, remains The Absolute Worst; he keeps dragging Lydia into the cell block and smiling when she comes out bloody and horrified._ _

__Barbara hammers some nails into Adam’s old baseball bat and makes herself a plan._ _

__“Wait,” Adam gapes, jaw hanging down to the floor. “You actually want to kill him?”_ _

__“Everyone’s doing fine until the child psychologist loses it,” Barbara replies. “I have a pistol and a severe amount of anger. I’ll make do.”_ _

__Adam laughs a little, face growing serious after a few seconds. “Honestly, dear? I’m in.”_ _

__God, she's so lucky to have him._ _

__She kisses him full on the lips, smiling, and he looks at her like she hung the stars in the sky. True love, apparently, comes when you say you’re going to kill your boss and your husband takes it in stride._ _

__-_ _

__Delia’s identification card is missing. She doesn’t mention it to Charles._ _

__-_ _

__Barbara trades sixty dollars and three packages of unsmoked cigarettes to a guard in exchange for his jacket._ _

__It’s a little big for Adam, but he makes it work, looking for all the world like a bored security officer on duty._ _

__“Perfect,” Barbara smiles, kissing him on the forehead._ _

__“Let’s go get those kids of ours,” Adam replies, putting on his glasses. “I’ll meet you out back.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter, folks, almost there!


	5. the end of life as we knew it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's burn this shit to the ground, shall we?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Oh boy! You guys are still here?

Adam drives up to a block from the lab, and Barbara walks the rest of the way, pulling her hair down from her always-present ponytail. She has a pistol tucked in her jean waistband, an earpiece found on Craigslist in her left ear, and a pair of gloves to cover fingerprints.

She’s about as ready as she’ll ever get.

She swipes Delia’s card through the entry reserved for employees after giving a dazzling smile to the exhausted security guard (long used to her odd hours), and walks in without an issue, pulling a cloth from her pocket and tying it around her nose and mouth.

Now for the tough part.

The halls are completely deserted, as per usual during the night, and Barbara runs first to her office, pulling out the last notes she needs before pulling her last weapon from her pocket.

A box of matches.

She strikes one and drops it onto her desk, hurrying out of the room as the flame begins to eat the old wood.

A left and down a few doorways, and then she’s at Lydia’s cell.

She pushes the door open and reaches over, shaking Lydia on the shoulder from where the girl sleeps. She wakes with a small gasp, tilting her head at Barbara in confusion.

“Dr. Ma-“

“Ssh,” she whispers. “Lydia, we’re leaving, okay? Where’s Beetlejuice?”

Her eyes grow wide. “He’s in the Neitherwor- Leaving? We- what? We can’t-“

“Oh, yes, we can. Come on, hon, Adam’s waiting.” Barbara pulls her up, grabbing her hand. “Trust me, okay?”

Lydia nods. “I do.”

“Alright. Follow me.”

-

A guard’s face glitches on the screen in Charles’ office. “Director!”

“What?” he snaps.

“Sir, it’s the subject! She ran!”

“What?” He demands, turning to him.

“She’s gone! The most recent entry was your wife, sir, and there’s a fire in the east wing!“

“My wife?” He spits. “She’s at home, wh-“

A thought occurs to him.

Who, exactly, would have the resources to steal Delia’s keycard and the anger to try to break the subject out?

He knows exactly who’s broken in.

The alarms blare to life and Charles slams his phone down, cursing, dragging out his laptop and pressing the keys hurriedly, using his last safeguard against the subject’s powers. A Devil’s Trap for the demon- Emily’s last gift to him. (She has been so proud of explain it- “It summons the demon from its prison, gets it somewhere the subject can’t take it from, which stops the both of them from escaping, Charles, honey, are you listening-“)

As he enters the last code, ensnaring the godforsaken thing in the trap, there’s a noise from outside. Charles opens his desk drawer, grasping for his pistol.

The door slowly creaks open.

He cracks a smile at the woman in the doorway. “Figured it was you.”

Maitland pulls down her mask, lip peeled back in a snarl. “Shut the fuck up.”

Behind her, the subject is holding onto Maitland, glaring at him. Charles smiles wider. “Ah, and my favorite animal. Good to see you.”

Maitland pulls a gun from her waistband, brandishing at him. “You wanna see who shoots faster?”

In answer, Charles pulls the trigger.

The bullet ricochets in a burst of green from the subject’s fingers, a cry from the girl’s mouth shaking the room. The gun in his hand crumples into a ball and gets thrown across the room.

Charles ducks away and then straightens, fixing his lab coat in some attempt to regain control. “Stop this immediately. I’m your employer, Dr. Maitland. I will rain hell on you should you even manage to get out of this alive.”

Maitland points her gun with shaking fingers.

“Sweetheart, you go find Adam.”

“N- no!” The subject cries. “No, I’m not leaving you with him, no-“

“Lydia, _go_.”

She gives a last terrified, angry as hell glance to Charles before she runs, her bare feet leaving bloody streaks on the places she steps.

Maitland turns back to Charles. “I’m getting out of this alive. You, meanwhile? That’s debatable.”

Charles smirks. “You haven’t got the stones for it, Maitland.”

She aims the gun at his heart with one hand, squinting. 

“You sure?”

-

It’s not a bang, really, when she finally pulls the trigger. More of a gasp for air, smoke billowing from the mouth of the gun.

Charles falls to the floor, red blossoming across his chest.

-

Adam is _not_ having a very nice time.

The keycard Barbara had given him only got him so far, a security guard squinting at him before lunging for his walky-talky, screaming “Code red!”

Adam pulls out the bat Barbara had given him and wallops the other man over the head why the side not covered in nails. He goes down hard. 

The alarm starts wailing, and Adam curses, putting his hand over one of his ears and brandishing his bat.

His mission was as simple as could be: break as much shit as humanly possible and get back to the car to drive with Barbara, Lydia, and hopefully Beetlejuice.

So he does, taking down alarms, cameras, other guards, and rooms filled with equipment, not stopping until his watch beeps the alarm meant to remind him to get back to the car.

He jumps into the driver’s seat and sets it into gear as his earpiece crackles to life.

“Babe, need you, south entrance, now please-“

Barbara.

He guns it.

When he slides into the south side, he sees Barbara, soaked in blood, Lydia held bridal-style in her arms. A team of very dead guards are strewn around Barbara’s feet.

He pulls the van over to them and she jumps in, putting Lydia down carefully into the back and throwing herself into the shotgun seat as a team of security guards burst out the door.

Adam floors it, swearing, and all of them are thrown violently to the right, Lydia crying out. Adam straightens the van, swerving off a dirt road and attempting to lose the vehicles tailing then.

They’re midway through the woods when Lydia starts yelling- it’s guttural, animalistic, screaming in the absence of anything else to cope with.

Barbara clambers out of her seat, tumbling into the back and grabbing Lydia’s arms. “Lydia, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know!” She screams. “I can’t feel Beetlejuice! I can’t feel him, I’ve always been able to feel him! He’s not there! He’s not! He’s gone, he’s gone, it hurts so bad-”

Another scream; the scars across Lydia’s chest light up a bloody red, pulsing to an unheard rhythm.

“ _Shit._ Adam, turn around.”

“What?” he yells, taking a sharp turn to the left.

“Beetlejuice is still stuck in the lab, go, go, go, we gotta lose them and double back!”

Adam screams his agreement and Barbara focuses back on Lydia. She has her arms wrapped around her head, rocking herself, small bursts of bright color slipping from her hands.

“Hey, Lydia, deep breaths for me. We’re going to get him. He’s going to be fine.”

“He’s not there, he’s not, I can’t feel him, I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t-“

“In and out, honey. W\e’re gonna get him, we’re gonna get him, breathe.”

-

He’s been inside this goddamn trap for a few hours.

It hurts.

Delia Deetz is staring at him from outside the trap’s barrier, her usually impeccable outfit a disaster. There’s blood all over her. Beetlejuice gives her a sharp look. The blood smells of the other bastard. That means he’s dead. That means that Dr. M’s hairbrained scheme worked.

That means Lydia’s safe.

But he can’t feel anything from her. No fear, no feelings, no nothing.

That’s _really fucking concerning._

Delia steps closer to the trap and Beej growls, banging his hands against the barrier. Her face pales but she doesn’t move backwards, instead speaking. 

“The subject escaped.”

A smile spreads across his lips, his teeth glinting under the harsh light of the room, and Delia narrows her eyes.

“You don’t seem to understand,” Delia says, her voice laiden in pain, “She _left_ you here.”

Beetlejuice blinks once at her and then snarls again, blood roaring in his ears.

He knew about this plan. He knew. She wouldn’t leave him on purpose. _They_ wouldn't. Dr. M promised him.

Delia crosses her arms. More blood stains her shirt. “And besides that, she murdered my husband. For that, she’ll rot.”

He flips her off.

Delia makes a strangled noise, glaring and going up closer to the trap. Beej moves backward and looks away from her, pacing around in an angry, caged animal sort of way. This shit feels like he’s on display at a zoo or something, Delia staring at him with tears and anger in her eyes, other scientists taking notes, Lydia nowhere to be found.

He might actually start losing it if she doesn’t come back soon.

She has to come back soon.

-

Adam throws open the van’s back door and Lydia jumps out, sprinting into the smoldering remains of half of the lab. Barbara runs after her and Adam follows suit, his bat clutched like a lifeline.

“Do you know where he is?” Barbara gasps out, trying her best to keep pace.

Lydia nods, running even faster through the halls before skidding to a stop in front of deadbolted door.

“Okay, okay, ready?” Barbara says, pulling her pistol out.

Adam nods.

Lydia breaks the door down, hands glowing a thousand different colors. The door slams to the floor and a cheer erupts from inside- Beej, smiling, his hands pressed to an invisible barrier surrounding him, a Devil’s trap beneath his feet.

Lydia tosses a team of scientists aside, Delia Deetz rushing to the corner and cowering behind the broken door, and Adam throws himself forward, breaking the trap with the nails on his bat. Beetlejuice falls out and Lydia screams his name three times, the demon disappearing with a pop and Lydia grabbing for Barbara’s hand, sprinting back out the door.

Once they reach the car, Barbara gets her head out the window, aims her gun, and starts firing at the people tailing them, Adam only managing to shake them off deep in the woods. 

Lydia floats up in a burst of green in the back seat, Beetlejuice crashing to the floor of the van and looking around wildly. “What-“

Lydia grabs for him, clutching both of his hands with her own, and Beetlejuice finally relaxes, glancing at the Maitlands. “Oh. Hey, Dr. M. Nice night for it, huh?”

Adam swerves and Barbara grabs for the ceiling, cursing softly. “Hi, Beej. It is indeed.”

They drive for a few hours before Adam even lets himself breathe properly, and the sun is rising when Barbara finally manages to convince him to take a nap, pulling into a gas station for food and to fill their tank.

Adam’s the one to go inside, and after a few seconds of hesitation he invites Lydia and Beej along, the two of them long-silent in the back. He finds them fast asleep, Lydia spooning Beetlejuice, tucked under the extra blankets the Maitlands had packed.

They wake up when he slides open the door, smiling. “Either if you interested in helping me decide our candy supply?” 

Lydia breaks into a smile and tugs Beej out of the van. “Yes!”

The store is quiet, the guy on shift fast asleep at the counter, and Adam points to the different candy isles, sending the kids off to choose a few.

Beej uses his powers to float down candy from the highest shelves, and Lydia runs around the entire store, grabbing anything she thinks looks interesting. They end up with an armful of chocolate and gummies, and Adam leaves the money on the counter, getting back to the van as Barbara finishes filling the gas.

He takes the shotgun seat, leaning on his seatbelt and closing his eyes, and Barbara drives far away from California.

-

The house looks the same as ever, worn down and safe, the porch steps creaking as the Maitlands and their stowaways walk inside.

Beej carries Lydia in, the girl dead asleep, and Barbara and Adam unpack their supplies quickly, throwing the bags into the living room.

“I’m assuming you two want to share a room?” Barbara asks, and Beej nods. 

“Don’t care where you stick us, but we have to share.” His tone leaves no room for argument, but his face goes even paler as he says so, holding onto Lydia tighter.

“Alright, don’t worry. How about you take the bedroom upstairs? It’s the biggest one, the second door on the left of the staircase.”

Beej nods. “Yeah, okay.” He starts to walk up the stairs, turning back to Barbara when he reaches the door. “Uh, thank you.”

She smiles at him and he goes into the room, closing the door tightly behind him.

-

The bedroom Dr. M had given them is big, windows covered by dusty blue curtains; a bunk bed is nestled in the corner, carefully made, the sheets folded over at the head of it.

Shit, Lydia _needs_ to see this.

Beej puts her down and shakes her up, grinning.

“Babes, lookit!” 

She groans, sitting up on the floor, hair sticking up on all sides, tilting her head at him- her usual way of asking _what_ while non-verbal.

Her eyes adjust to the light after a few seconds, glowing a little, and Beej points to the bed. “The Maitlands hooked us up, kid!”

Lydia stands up on shaky legs, her hands flapping slowly by her side, and her face splits into a smile.

The two of them look around for a few seconds- the windows, which open on an overgrown garden; the bookshelf in the corner piled high with novels; the bed, made of sturdy wood, covered in a comfortable-looking quit. There’s a knock on the door and both of them whip around in unison, Dr. Maitland's voice coming through muffled.

“Kids? Both of you get to bed, okay? Tomorrow morning we can have a talk about everything, if you want.”

Beej turns to the door and opens it slowly- Dr. Maitland’s hands are cleaned of blood and she wears an old letterman jacket, her lab coat gone. 

“That,” he says, looking at the ground, “would be. Nice. Yeah.”

Lydia pushes past him, smiling nervously. “Thank you, Dr. Maitland.”

The woman’s eyes soften as she looks at both of them. “No trouble. Get some rest.”

She climbs up the rest of the stairs and Beej closes the door back up, Lydia curling on the bed, back against the wall. Beej hits the lights off and flops down next to her, pulling the blankets over them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's that.
> 
> I'm very proud of this fic and I wanna shout out my betas again, deadendwings (ao3) and blind-band-geek (tumblr). Love you both. There will be a part two, but only if you guys want it- again, as always, comments mean the world to me. Thanks for sticking through this. I am so tired. 
> 
> Thank you.
> 
> (Sneak peek for part two: Delia redemption! Lydia and Beej's misadventures in high school! Barbara punching Maxie Dean in the _face!_ Y'all, it's gonna be so much fun.)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments... fuel me... please. I have spent weeks on this.
> 
> Thank you to Babs and CJ, for letting me cry about this stupid idea of mine and beta'ing. All my love.


End file.
